


if you give a Vulcan catnip....

by quiettewandering



Series: Spirk Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Humor, Jim is very respectful of his cuddly stoned vulcan, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spock not taking care of himself as usual, don't worry no dubious consent, stoned Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettewandering/pseuds/quiettewandering
Summary: Jim recruits Sulu to give Spock a herbal tea to help him sleep, which has unforeseen consequences of a very stoned, very cuddly Vulcan.





	if you give a Vulcan catnip....

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from @lenyberry: "for some reason, someone gives Spock an herbal tea blend designed for helping humans get to sleep. But everyone failed to consider differences of vulcan biology & check the ingredients -- and while catnip is a very mild sedative with no further psychoactive effects for humans, vulcans evolved from a more felinoid ancestry... No lasting harm done of course, just, catnip tea + insomniac vulcan = Extra Cuddly *stoned* vulcan who's probably not gonna sleep til he comes off the high."

“Bones, I’m going to get bed sores.”

Bones shoots him a nasty look across sickbay. “No, you’re damn well not.”

“I will if you keep me in this bed a day longer,” Jim pouts.

“Jim, you’re recovering from a shattered spine and three broken ribs. Shut the hell up.”

“Yeah, but that happened a week ago. Hasn’t modern medicine evolved enough so that I can get back up and at ‘em with a broken spine within a week?”

“No,” says Bones flatly. He continues staring at a medical chart perched against his lap.

Jim tilts his head back and sighs dramatically.

“Jim, I’m discharging you tonight! Quit your belly-achin’!”

In response, Jim sticks his tongue out at him. It’s at this moment the sickbay doors decide to swish open, revealing Spock. Jim immediately straightens and his face straightens into an uncontrollably bright smile. “Spock!”

Bones stomps off to grumble in a corner.

Spock nods his head. “Captain.” He side-eyes Bones hesitantly. “You asked to see me.”

“Against my orders,” Bones mutters under his breath.

Jim nods, straightening in his bed, trying to look as commanding as he could from a supine position. “I did. This jail warden,” he hooks his thumb at Bones, “is discharging me tonight so I wanted to get up to speed before my shift in the morning. Since someone wouldn’t let me work the whole time I was in this damn bed.”

Spock, instead of raising his usual inquisitive eyebrow, simply nods. Now that Spock is closer Jim can see the dark shadows under Spock’s eyes; the way his skin is more pinched than usual at the corners. Spock’s hair looks duller than its usual shiny presentation and his parade rest seems to sag.

Jim wants to ask Spock how he’s feeling, but he knows that’ll unleash the medical wrath of McCoy on him. Instead, he asks, “How have rotation of the shifts been working with the damage to the hull, Spock?”

Spock blinks and refocuses before glancing down at his PADD. “Mr. Scott has taken point on most of the repairs on the damage done by Klingon phasers, Captain. We are set on course to Starbase IV, and as a result a full navigation crew has been assigned for each shift. Each engineer has been required to work overtime for the repairs, but each crewmember is granted a 12-hour break every 24 hours of being on active duty. Additionally, senior bridge crew is on shift rotation as usual, with the exception of Mr. Sulu, who insists on coordinating the navigational team during night shifts.”

Jim holds up a hand to stop the rush of words. “And you, Spock? Who have you assigned as your right-hand man to help you with Acting Captain duties, since Scotty is entrenched in repairs?”

Spock tilts his head, almost confused. “No one, Captain. I am quite capable of taking on the duties myself.”

“So you’re taking on my regular duties.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“As well as your typical First Officer duties.”

“Correct.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.” He looks over Spock’s shoulder at Bones who, never missing a beat, is glaring daggers in Spock’s back. Spock seems to shrink an inch under their scrutiny.

“Captain, if that is all, I am scheduled to meet Mr. Scott on the bridge to discuss the materials that need to be obtained at Starbase IV.”

Jim nods, managing an easy smile. “Sure, Spock, no problem. Thanks for the update.”

“Captain.” Spock turns on his heel. Jim’s eyes track him all the way through the door.

“Bones,” Jim says to the doctor who has pretended to study his medical charts again.

“Yup?”

“How much you want a bet that Spock hasn’t slept since the Klingon attack?”

Bones lifts his head and gives Jim a look that says ‘do you think I was born in the great blue world yesterday’. “A Vulcan who is just as much of a workaholic as you? What do you think, Jim?”

Jim sighs and punches the intercom on the wall next to his bed. “Uhura, will you track down Sulu and send him to sickbay, please?”

*

Bones, ever the stickler, releases Jim no later than 2100 hours, the time of discharge that Bones snapped at him when Jim came out of surgery and asked when he could get back on duty.

Jim steps into his quarters, stretching his spine, still tingling from the reconstruction surgery. He breathes in the familiar recycled air of his quarters.

He glances at the door to his and Spock’s shared bathroom. He hopes that his little plan with Sulu has worked, and Spock is sound asleep on the other side of the wall.

After doing some digging in the reports from the past week, Jim found out that Spock hadn’t taken any hours off since the Klingon attack. Bones, with his infinite resources, looked into Spock’s history of using the replicator, only to find, Jim and Bones realized with horror, that he’d only replicated two bowls of oatmeal and four glasses of water for himself in the span of eight days.

Bones hadn’t even objected to Jim’s plan of getting Sulu’s holistic approach on board, knowing that a hypo in the neck would only earn him a Vulcan nerve pinch. Jim had told Sulu to emphasize that his concoction simply a tea to help encourage rest—not actually conk Spock out to sleep (which, of course, is the tea’s actual purpose).

Jim’s just beginning to settle at his computer, ready to disobey Bones’ orders and look through the reports he’s missed in the past week, when his intercom beeps. He sighs and opens the link. “Kirk here.”

“Hey, uh, Jim? You better come to Rec Room 3.” It’s Sulu, sounding like someone had just taken a piss in his cheerios.

Jim runs a hand over his forehead. “I’m not supposed to be on duty, yet, Sulu—what’s this about?”

“It’s Spock.”

There’s something in Sulu’s tone that makes Jim jump to his feet. Unbidden images of Spock having fainted, died from exhaustion, Spock fatally wounded: it’s enough to simply bolt out of his quarters, intercom still on and Sulu calling his name from the background.

He sprints with speed he didn’t expect to have, pushing past crew-members until he rounds the corner to Rec Room 3. He pushes through Bones and Sulu standing in the doorway, and gapes at the scene in front of him. “What the—”

There is Spock, in the middle of the room, practically draped over a very irritated Uhura. His arms are encircling hers and he’s rubbing his cheek against her own like a goddamn cat. Jim has to blink a few times to make sure he’s not losing his mind.

“What the hell,” Jim says.

“Uh-huh,” agrees Bones.

Jim stares at the bizarre sight for a minute longer before barking, “What in the hell was in that tea, Sulu?”

Sulu looks at Jim despondently. “I have no idea. I gave him something my grandma always used to give us, to sleep: chamomile, lavender, catmint—”

“Catmint? Do you mean catnip?” Jim asks.

Sulu nods. “It’s the same thing.”

Bones tilts his head back and groans. “You idiot.” He waves a hand to gesture at Spock who is now patting Uhura’s head, crooning over how soft her hair is. “Catnip gets Vulcans stoned.”

Sulu says, softly, “Oh.”

Jim says, loudly, “What?”

“Vulcans evolved from a more felinoid ancestry,” Bones sighs.

As if to emphasize the point, Spock rubs his cheek against the top of Uhura’s head, smiling blissfully. “You’ve always smelled so nice,” he sighs.

Uhura whips her head around to stare daggers at Kirk. “Get him off me,” she says.

Spock turns his head, just noticing Jim’s arrival. His whole face lights up. “Jim!” he cries, and suddenly without any warning Jim is being attacked by his first officer, his skinny limbs clinging to him.

“Uhh, Spock—”

“Jim, you’re here.” Spock cradles Jim’s head close and begins stroking his hair.

Jim closes his eyes and sighs. He’s got to get Spock in a more private place, otherwise he’ll be mortified after this high comes down. Luckily it’s only them in the rec room for now, but he knows that another crewmember could walk in at any moment.

Turning his head the best he can while being entrapped by Spock’s arms, Jim points an authoritative finger at Bones and Sulu are bending over, trying not to break out into laughter. “Go get people out of the hallway, you two. I’m taking Spock to his room.”

“Are we going to snuggle, Jim?” Spock asks pleasantly.

“Oh my god,” Uhura says as Jim tries to lead Spock out of the Rec room.

“We’re going to bed, Spock,” Jim says firmly.

Spock lets himself be lead down the hallway and absentmindedly plays with Jim’s hair. “That sounds agreeable,” he sighs.

Luckily, most crewmembers are asleep or working on repairs in the ship, so the hallways are clear. Jim gets Spock to his quarters and overrides the lock with his captain’s code.

“So, uh, need any help?” Bones asks. He’s still stifling his laughter with his fist pressed against his mouth.

“I’ve got it, Bones,” Jim grumbles.

Spock reaches out and touches McCoy’s cheek. He squints his eyes at him and McCoy just stands there, mouth agape.

“You bother me,” Spock says, matter-of-factly. Bones bursts into hysterical laughter. Jim rolls his eyes and yanks him away.

After the door shuts behind them, Spock once again attaches himself to Jim. “We’re alone,” he whispers seductively into Jim’s ear.

Jim snorts. “I know, Spock.”

“Now we can cuddle.”

“Uh. No, Spock, you’re going to sleep.”

“You do not wish to cuddle?” Spock asks, expression wilting. He looks like Kirk just said that he was going to kick his puppy.

You have no idea how much I want to, Jim thinks with a suppressed sigh. “Spock, you’re not yourself,” is all he says instead.

With a pout, Spock takes two steps back, out-stretches his arms, and falls dramatically onto his bed. “Stay with me,” he demands with a lazy smack onto the sheet next to him.

“Uh, Spock… not sure if that’s a great idea. When you sober up you’re not going to want me in your bed.”

“Friends sleep next to each other,” Spock insists, lifting his head to bat his eyelashes at Jim. “Are you not my friend?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Your line of logic in this state is faulty at best, buddy.” Nonetheless he hesitantly situates himself onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard. It’s for Spock’s good, he insists to himself; he might need help throughout the night. Spock sighs happily and snuggles up against him. Jim clenches his fists and quietly commands the computer to bring lights down to 20%.

“Do you know what saddens me the most?” Spock asks as he rubs a cheek against Jim’s arm.

“What’s that, Spock?”

“That you do not love me.”

Jim gapes down at him. “Of course I love you, Spock!”

“Not in the way I desire.” He looks genuinely sad, for a moment, as his eyes reach Jim’s. He remains the eye contact as his hand reaches up, and he boops Jim on the nose. “It’s all right, Jim. I understand.”

“Spock—”

“I will continue to love you, you know; even when you are married and have equally blue-eyed, equally infuriating children.”

Jim pats Spock’s head, tries to bring light to the situation. “Spock, let’s not talk about this now. You’re stoned out of your mind. It’s not good for you to be saying these things.”

Spock sniffs and clutches Jim’s arm tighter. “It is deeply tragic.”

“Not really, Spock.”

“It is, Jim. A modern-day tragic unrequited love story. Equivalent to a 23rd century Cyrano de Bergerac; but instead of the nose, I have ears.” Spock reaches up and feels the tip of his ear. “The pointy ears, correct, Jim? Instead of the big nose.”

“Um. Sure.” Jim shifts. “But, Spock, it’s not a tragic story at all if your love is requited.”

Spock blinks for a moment, not quite getting it. “You are saying this because I am sad. You want to make me happy.”

“No, Spock, I mean it.” Jim hesitates only a moment before leaning down and kissing Spock on the forehead. “But we’ll talk about it in the morning. Get some sleep, okay?”

Spock stares at him for another few seconds before his eyes slowly droop closed.

Jim stays in his first officer’s room, wide awake and brain whirling, watching the clock until it indicates 0600, the time to wake up and get ready for his shift. He replicates a glass of water for Spock and puts it gently on the bedside table.

True to his routine, even when stoned out of his mind, Spock jolts awake, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Jim knows immediately by his, “Good morning, Captain,” that Spock’s brain chemistry is back to normal levels.

Jim tries for a smile. “Hey, Spock. Brought you some water.”

“I am grateful,” he says. It sounds like Spock swallowed some rocks and they’re still in his throat, rubbing against his vocal chords.

Jim shifts between his feet. “All right, well… I have to get to the bridge, so—”

“Jim.” Spock licks his dry lips. “I must apologize for last night.”

“No, I need to,” says Jim in a rush. “If I’d have known that Sulu would give you that damn catnip, I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I'm so sorry.”

“You were not to know the interactions of catnip and Vulcan biochemistry.”

“Still—”

“Jim, I have to apologize for my behavior, and my words.” He stares down at his hands. “They were not only illogical, they were… inappropriate. I would understand if you needed to transfer me, or report me for harassment.”

Jim shakes his head, trying to reboot his brain. “Harassment, Spock? You weren’t even—” He flails a hand wildly in the air. “If anything, I harassed you by sleeping in your bed! By… kissing your damn cheek!”

At Spock’s blank face, Jim says in a rush, “Do you not remember anything I said last night?”

Spock slowly shakes his head.

“God damn it.” Jim puts a hand on his forehead, closing his eyes. Now or never. “Well, Spock, it’s like this. I…. basically, I reciprocate your feelings.”

Spock blinks at him. Jim inwardly sighs.

“I… agree with what you said.”

More silence.

“I love you too, you stubborn Vulcan.”

Spock opens his mouth; shuts it again. “I see.”

Jim huffs out a frustrated sigh. “See, this was a mistake, this whole situation—I gotta go to the bridge—” As he’s turning to leave, Spock is rising from the bed in one smooth motion and striding across the floor to Jim. He grabs Jim’s wrist and pulls their bodies together in one smooth line; his hands fall to barely brush Jim’s sides.

“Thank you,” he says, huskily, in Jim’s ear. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jim puts his forehead against Spock’s shoulder and grins into the fabric. “Guess we need to get you on catnip more often. Gets the truth out. And makes you a great cuddler.”

Spock pulls back and raises a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Jim, if you deliberately drug me—”

“Spock, I was just kidding,” Jim chuckles. He leans forward and kisses the frown off of his first officer’s face. "Besides, something tells me that we aren't going to need drugs to cuddle in the future." 

A small smile tilting his lips, Spock agrees softly, "Surely not."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, everyone<3
> 
> I'm at @spockfallsinlove on tumblr.


End file.
